


Transition

by noxic



Category: I Wish You All the Best - Mason Deaver
Genre: Charlie Brown plays in the background, Common Misconceptions, Discussions of medical transition, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Nonbinary Meta, Other, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 00:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20648105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxic/pseuds/noxic
Summary: “Do you think you’ll ever want to transition?”-A brief discussion between Nathan and Ben on a lazy afternoon in January.





	Transition

We’re lying on the couch when it comes up, as casual as anything. Nathan is half-sprawled out, leaning against the armrest while I’m draped over the couch completely. My feet are pressed against one of his thighs because even though I think feet are inherently gross, Nathan doesn’t mind and his body heat is a delicious reprieve from the winter chill. It’s early January, and we’re both back home in the wake of the holidays. _ Happy New Year Charlie Brown _ is running on the TV, and we’re both only half paying attention.

“Hey babe,” he says, suddenly. I look over and see his gaze trained on his phone, eyebrows pinched together like he’s trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together or solve an equation in his head. It’s cute.

“Hey, babe,” I reply.

“Do you think you’ll ever want to transition?” His eyebrows stay as they are, but he looks up to meet my eyes just in time to see me blink, slight smile slipping from my face.

“What?”

“Y’know, like hormones and stuff?”

My eyes practically roll of their own volition. “I know what transitioning is, obviously, but why are you asking me that now?”

He shrugs, says “No reason really,” and his face is open in a way that says he’s being genuine. “I was just reading about like, how some nonbinary people do binary transitions, and I realized we’ve never really talked about it before.”

Suddenly the room feels just a touch too warm. I pull my feet away from his body, sitting up straight and adjusting to face him on the couch. Nathan immediately panics.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to!” he holds up both hands in surrender. “I just thought it might be like, considerate to ask. In case you wanted, uh, support or something. I’m sorry.” He lowers his hands, but his eyes find mine and I can practically feel the force of them searching.

With a sigh, I reach up to tie back my hair. It’s getting longer these days, and it feels uncomfortably warm in the wake of this conversation. “No, it’s fine,” I assure him, because it is. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I try to give a measured, diplomatic response. “I have thought about it, but I’m not sure it’s something I’d want to pursue.”

Nathan blinks. “It isn’t?”

“I mean, yeah and no. Slash, not really, I guess?” Wincing at the indecision in my answer, I try to backtrack. “I mean it’s not exactly an easily solution, y’know? It’s not like I want to transition to female all the way any more than I want to be read as male for the rest of my life. It’s a question of androgyny, but there’s not really a hormone for that.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what androgen is?”

I snort, then feel myself descend into uncontrollable laughter at the baffled look on his face. He’s a very smart guy, but he’s a film major at heart.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says dryly when my laughter dies down.

“That’s a no,” I confirm. There’s several moments of silence, but it doesn’t feel charged, so I take that as a good sign.

“You know,” Nathan says, killing the pause. “I’d be okay with it if you wanted to do that.” He winces. “Not that you need to worry about my approval, obviously, but that’s what I’m trying to--I mean, I’d totally support you if you decided that’s what you wanted.” He leans in closer to me, adjusting his position so he can reach my hand with his and his fingers through my own.

The smile that comes to my face this time isn’t from mirth. It’s something much brighter and much warmer than that that doesn’t even let me think about laughing at the sincerity in his voice and the awkward, worried expression on his face. I allow myself a moment to stare, rubbing my thumb against his hand and relishing the feeling of his skin. He’s got beautiful eyes, and his curls have started to droop just slightly over them. He’s due for a haircut any day now.

“Thanks babe,” I say softly, wiggling closer. As soon as there’s room for it, I lean my head against his shoulder and feel his cheek press against the top of my head. We press together like we were born for this moment, and the uncomfortable, stifling heat from before now seems miraculously gone.

“‘Course.” He murmurs his response into my hair, and the feeling of his breath against my scalp sends a shiver down my spine. On the TV, the clock strikes midnight and the Peanuts gang are showered with colorful balloons as the New Years party comes to a head.


End file.
